Ruin of the Soul by Jean Dorricott

Author:Jean Dorricott [Dorricott, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781909039612
Publisher: Legend Press

Chapter 9

Low cloud and damp drizzle accompanied the following morning, forming droplets on every twig and grey lichen tassel. They showered Rachel as she strode through the reserve woods but she barely noticed the water seeping through her ancient jacket. Nor, as she climbed from the woods to open country, did she give more than a passing glance at the bracken crosiers uncurling from their drowsing rootstocks.

She was immersed in thought.

Emmanuel and Shuji’s plans of reform for William were codswallop. He would continue with his lucrative and illicit trade supported by most of the people in the district. Interesting that Annie wasn’t present last night. And what exactly was Shuji planning to do with Elwyn’s flock of sheep? Alyson had emphasised the dangerous potential of the current virus they were researching. No way would Shuji release such an organism into the outside world.

She looked up. If only the mist would clear. The faint sun, gold as a pirate’s doubloon, gave no warmth. A cold breeze started up the valley.

Once the mist rose she’d be able to look down from this hillside into the yard and spot William’s comings and goings. If he was watching her then she was certainly going to watch him. Eventually she’d see him leave and then she could enter the yard buildings before the contraband was removed, which was sure to happen very soon.

Slowly the louring cloud shredded and dissolved. The sun shone, birds sang louder greetings and Plas Du’s black and sparkling roofs emerged from the mist. Penybwlch buildings were clear now and there was stick figure William, tiny dog at heel, moving sacks round the yard. She trained her yapp telescope on him, watching intently.

Suddenly she heard thudding. Horses cantering towards her the far side of the bluff. The bridle path was narrow so she climbed up the hillside out of their way and waited. The first rider appeared, yanking the reins back fiercely so the animal twisted its head round snorting in protest. It slowed to an amble then a walk as the pair slipped cautiously down the muddy incline towards the wood. A second rider reined in at the top of the slope, silhouetted against the low winter sun.

When the first rider saw Rachel, she jerked her horse to a standstill. It was Hilary Barron. She wore a camel coloured hacking jacket buttoned fashionably to the chin. Its gold embroidered collar and cuffs sparkled in the sun. Highly polished brown boots reached her calves and her tawny riding breeches showed off firm and muscular thighs. Her riding hat bore a jaunty blue feather and a few soft brown curls escaped from under the rim. She sat in the saddle with as much assurance as William on his gallop to Llanfechan.

Godiva, Rachel thought. Or that great Queen of the Iceni, Boudica. Her nervousness increased.

Since Rachel had retreated above the bridle path the two women were on the level. As they stared at each other Rachel noticed the passionate intensity of the professor’s gaze, but this time she did not drop her own eyes.

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